


our private spectacle

by itachitachi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (HIDES FACE FOREVER), Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Comeplay, First Time, Fukuroudani, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachitachi/pseuds/itachitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ringing in Akaashi's ears is back again, very loud this time. It makes his skin tingle where Bokuto is touching, and jams up his thought process.</p><p>"I've never been kissed before," he hears himself say.</p><p>"That's okay," Bokuto says immediately. He scoots closer, looking excited. "The first time I was kissed was at training camp too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	our private spectacle

**Author's Note:**

> I honest-to-god started this intending to write a quick Bokuroo PWP. Inspired by the HQ Kinkmeme prompt: _Bokuto/Kuroo: rimming, voyeurism. bokuto and kuroo have a nasty habit of getting it on during training camps, both teams are very aware and always try and catch them in the act as a joke, but when they do...._ Having Akaashi as a narrator brought the whole thing way off track though. Like way off track. Like... why is this 8k...? I can't call it a PWP now... (Thanks to Yrindor for the beta, uhghh.)
> 
> I am in favor of "sex which doesn't mean anything, while simultaneously meaning a whole lot". :D Enjoy.

Akaashi is reading a novel on his futon, concerned only with the odd turns of the author's prose, when Konoha pokes his head in and asks, "Where's Bokuto?"

"It's not my job to know where he is at all times," Akaashi says near-automatically, flipping the page.

"Bad news," Konoha calls back out into the hallway, "He's not with Akaashi. That means Bokuto and Kuroo are _both_ missing... which, as I'm sure you all know, means they're probably—"

"Whoever finds them fucking gets free popsicles for the rest of camp, on me!" shouts Nekoma's Yamamoto, muffled. There is a chorus of cheers from what sounds like the first-years.

"Taking bets now for what position they'll be in," comes Komi's voice.

"Blowjobs, Bokuto receiving," says Sarukui immediately.

"No way, it's gonna be a sixty-nine!"

Akaashi sighs, putting the book over his face.

"You wanna come?" Konoha asks him. "It's always a good time."

"Every time you all do this, it just gets more ridiculous," Akaashi says into the pages of his book. "You've never found them, as far as I've heard."

"That's what makes it fun," Konoha says. Akaashi hears footsteps, and then Konoha is lifting the book off his face. He's grinning. "It's low risk. We're mainly out just to have a fun time, but if we do find them it'll be hilarious. They think they're so subtle."

Akaashi squints; he's not sure if even Kuroo and Bokuto could believe they were subtle. More likely, they simply didn't care about getting caught (Kuroo) or didn't realize that their behavior was in any way suspicious (Bokuto).

Konoha prods him with his foot. "Come on Akaashi. My number one wish is to see you not be a spoilsport before I graduate."

"I've never been a spoilsport when you all get up to this," Akaashi says. "I've just never joined in."

"I'm specially inviting you this time," Konoha says, his grin widening. "My favorite vice-captain kouhai. Come on, just once?"

Akaashi sighs, weighing the options. Low risk, Konoha said; hopefully that was true.

"Fine," he says, cautious. "Just this once. But if we do find them, I reserve the right to leave immediately."

"Sure, whatever," Konoha says, giving him a hand up. "This is about the journey anyway, not the potential treasure at the end of the road."

"Treasure," Akaashi mutters, mouth twisting.

"Or whatever you'd like to call embarrassing those two," Konoha says, eyes gleaming. "They've had it coming for a long time."

Akaashi has his private doubts about whether Kuroo and Bokuto would be embarrassed to be interrupted during an intimate encounter. Kuroo is tricky; he tends to hide the things that bother him most. Bokuto likely wouldn't care. Though, based on his occasionally modest behavior in the changeroom, there's a possibility that he would be completely mortified.

Konoha ushers him out into the hall before he can decide to change his mind.

Nekoma's vice-captain is at the end of the corridor, pointing some of his team members down to a different branch of classrooms. "You guys got this floor?" Konoha calls to him, pulling Akaashi by the wrist.

"Yup," Kai says. His normally solemn face is relaxed, the corners of his mouth perked up as he glances back at them. "The others have probably got downstairs covered too."

"Great, then we'll start scouting the outside," Konoha says, and promptly tows Akaashi down the nearest staircase.

"You all seem to have worked out a system for this," Akaashi says, trying not to sound overly judgmental.

"Of course we have," Konoha says, "it's one of the best parts of training camp. We usually search the school floor by floor, and then work our way out around the grounds."

"You really search every closet in the school? Every bathroom?"

"We even try the teacher's offices," Konoha says, looking back with a devious grin. He lets go of Akaashi's wrist, probably deeming him unlikely to go running back to his futon now that they're a floor away and nearly outside. "We try to stay away from the areas where the coaches and other schools are staying, but everywhere else is fair game. We've got a good search crew."

"And yet you've never found them," Akaashi says.

"I honestly don't know how they do it," Konoha says. "They must know some secret spots."

He pushes open the door, and they step out into the humid dark. The lights illuminating the pathways to the detached buildings have already been shut off, but they're at Fukuroudani this year; Akaashi feels confident in his step even in the near-black. The familiarity of the setting makes him pause.

"I guess it would make sense to try the secret make-out spot near the back west fence," Konoha is murmuring, just ahead.

Akaashi's eyes flicker over to the line of gymnasiums, tantalizingly near. "Have you ever looked in the gyms, Konoha-san?"

"They're locked after practice," Konoha says, pausing with him. "We can't get in there."

"This is our school," Akaashi says. "Bokuto-san has a key to our regular gym, if you'd forgotten."

"Oh shit," Konoha says, "Akaashi, you're brilliant. You've got a key too, right?"

He swallows, a feeling of dread suddenly welling up. Still, he says, "I do." It's zipped in his pocket.

"Fuck yeah!" Konoha says, immediately turning to head for the line of gyms. "We're totally gonna find them this year! Akaashi, you're my lucky charm."

"I still don't see why this is exciting," Akaashi says, trotting behind. "If those two actually are up to something private, I don't want to see it."

"I told you, I won't make you look," Konoha says.

Akaashi should probably respect the heavy feeling in his chest and turn around right now. Konoha is humming to himself as they approach the third gym: their regular practice site during the school day. Just hours ago, Akaashi had been in here, with Bokuto and Kuroo and the motley practice crew they'd collected. Now the high windows of the gym are all dark. It's as silent as everything else.

"We'll just check it out quick," Konoha says, evaluating the place just as Akaashi is. "If they're not here, there are still plenty of other places to look."

Akaashi's hands are steady as he unlocks the door. He pushes it open carefully, knowing just how it tends to creak. He's done this many times this year already; getting here earlier than Bokuto and starting to set up in the hush of morning. He leaves the door cracked behind them, and they pad in on socked feet.

The gym is dark, but a light is on in the back storage area. Konoha leads the way, Akaashi slow and silent behind him. The closer they get, the more Akaashi is sure that he can hear some kind of noise, the softest high echo.

"Fuck, shit, yes," Konoha whispers when they get to the half-open equipment room door. From here, it's obvious that there _is_ indeed a noise, quiet though it is, and that the noise is coming from a person. Konoha peers around the door, and then, judging it clear, slips inside.

Akaashi squints against the light, hesitating. Slowly, he takes one step forward, then two, and lets himself peek.

The noise—the _moaning_ , for that's what it is—is coming from the little-used coach's office off the equipment room, where he and Bokuto sometimes sit after club to fill out paperwork. More specifically, Akaashi fills out the paperwork and Bokuto sits on a chair next to him, chattering away about various topics usually at least somewhat related to volleyball. The door to the office has a small inset window; it's this that Konoha is looking through, holding a hand to his mouth to muffle his cackle. Akaashi moves inside before consciously deciding to, but stops halfway, amidst the carts full of volleyballs, once he realizes what he's done.

"I've gotta get the others here quick," Konoha whispers, pulling away from the window. He wipes at his eyes. "I have no idea when these guys are going finish."

Akaashi tenses. "So... they're in the middle of..."

Konoha snorts, pulling out his phone. " _Very_ in the middle of it. You know, this whole time I don't think I really believed they were doing the deed. But honestly, I don't know if you'll be able to work in there again, Akaashi," he laughs, shaking his head.

Maybe Akaashi _won't_ be able to work in there again. Certainly not in close proximity to Bokuto. Even here, three good steps away from being able to see anything, the idea of it feels uncomfortable, hot.

There's a sort of ringing in his ears, not quite harmonizing with the intermittent whines and groans filtering through the door. Without meaning to, his brain connects the dots: The whines are coming from Bokuto. Kuroo is—silent.

Sarukui could be right, Akaashi thinks, looking carefully at the floor. _Blowjobs, Bokuto receiving_. But even a blowjob should make a little noise, Akaashi thinks unwillingly, and he really can't hear a thing. The air is thick with Bokuto's soft, helpless noises, muffled and high. Maybe, if he listens closely underneath that, he can catch... the tiniest, wet sounds.

"I won't make you look," Konoha whispers suddenly, "but to be honest, it kind of seems like you want to."

He's smirking down at his phone, fingers working; texting the others, probably.

"Really," he says, glancing up. "I won't tell anyone. If you want to, go ahead."

Akaashi glares at him a little, before he can stop himself. Konoha is a bit of a dick, but he's also a man of his word. If Akaashi does want to look—which, maybe, in the smallest way, he does—he shouldn't be ungrateful for the chance. For just this moment, it could be safe to indulge himself.

Still, he can't move for another long second.

After three breaths, he steps forward beside Konoha, steeling himself as he peers slowly through the little window. It'll just be for a moment, he tells himself.

But—

Bokuto is bent over the desk. That desk, covered in bus receipts and Akaashi's leftover scrap paper—

Akaashi gasps and ducks down out of view, blinking hard. The sight of it is seared into his eyes.

The miscellany of papers, crumpled underneath Bokuto's elbows. The way he braces himself on his forearms, head hanging low. Kuroo on his knees behind him, his face pressed—the way he must be _licking_ —

More prepared this time, even if only just, Akaashi looks again.

He drinks up the harsh shadows from the lighting, the little divots where Kuroo's fingers press into Bokuto's cheeks. He's holding Bokuto open to make room for his mouth. His _mouth_. With his gaze Akaashi traces the line of Bokuto's arm as it stretches back, every muscle in it hard and taut as he pulls at Kuroo's hair.

Akaashi feels hot. His fingers curl into his palms, blunt nails biting in hard.

This explains the hush, that unobtrusive stillness broken only by Bokuto's occasional moans. A noise bursts from Bokuto even as Akaashi watches, triggered by the shift of Kuroo's face, the working of his jaw. Bokuto arches and moves as he groans, turning his neck until Akaashi can see his red face, the way his teeth dig into his lip. He can even see the shine of sweat on Bokuto's forehead, the fierce scrunch of his screwed-up eyes.

Belatedly, he pulls away from the window completely and remembers to breathe again.

It's just in time too, as that's when Komi, Sarukui, and half of Nekoma burst in not-quite-silently from the gym. He jumps at their appearance, flustered despite himself. Luckily, they pay him very little mind.

"Seriously?" Komi hisses to Konoha. "We actually got them? The cat's in the bag?"

"The cat and the owl," Yaku corrects.

Konoha just grins, jerking a thumb to the window. Akaashi, head still spinning, shrugs a bit when they look to him. The Nekoma/Fukuroudani contingent seem to take that as a joint cue to scuffle their way over to peek.

It's through the sudden cacophony of giggles, and little whispers of _Are you fucking kidding me?_ and _Did anyone bet on ass-eating?_ that Akaashi meets Konoha's eyes. It's a moment of brief but clear understanding; Konoha smiles and waves Akaashi out, in that leave-it-to-me attitude of his. Akaashi nods, ashamed and grateful at once, and goes.

Behind him, Bokuto's thin moan abruptly cuts off and turns into a shriek.

&&&

Bokuto is up and down for most of the rest of the training camp—up for volleyball, and down for all the teasing that his teammates delight in heaping upon him. Akaashi is down too, or at least relatively so. He feels irritable, can't seem to stop thinking about Kuroo and Bokuto's dimly lit figures in that office. The way Kuroo's fingers had curled against Bokuto's skin, the tense flush on Bokuto's cheeks, the dig of his teeth into his lips. In the hustle and constant excitement of this training camp, Akaashi just wants a little... time to himself.

He almost thinks he's managed to find some, two nights later when the rest of the team is out buying ice cream. Konoha had invited him along—Yamamoto's offer of free popsicles was to be split between the both of them, apparently—but he had declined, citing his (actually rather boring) novel, as an excuse.

The Fukuroudani sleeping area is quiet then, only Akaashi left behind. He lies in his futon, feeling exhausted but wired, and lets his hand just brush the front of his boxers. He thinks about locking himself in the bathroom—though that would be frowned upon, as others might need to use it—or just staying here, hoping that the shield of his covers will be enough.

Then he hears crashing footsteps in the hallway, and Bokuto appears at the door.

"Akaashi!" he says, looking frazzled.

Akaashi sighs, hand dropping to his side. "What is it, Bokuto-san? I thought you were with the others."

"I was, but I couldn't!" Bokuto says. He stomps inside and slides the door shut behind himself. "They wouldn't stop teasing me, but also, I realized—you _helped_ them! I thought you weren't there but I know I locked the gym, and you're the only other person with a key."

Akaashi rubs his face with his hands, wanting desperately not to have this conversation. "It seemed clear to me that you would go to the gym, so that's where I looked."

"But Akaashi," Bokuto says. "We'd been having _such_ a good time, you totally ruined it, and now everyone is making fun of us."

"This is training camp, Bokuto-san, not some kind of sex getaway," he says, looking fixedly up at the ceiling. "Please recognize that there may be consequences to your actions."

Bokuto stomps closer, then flops on top of his own futon, right next to Akaashi's. "I still don't know how you guys even knew to look for us, though."

"Everyone knows about you two," Akaashi mutters, trying keep impassive.

"That's what they said too. But seriously, how long have you guys known?"

Akaashi glances briefly over and finds Bokuto rolled to face him, frowning. He looks back up. "I heard about... you and Kuroo... from the upperclassmen at my first training camp."

"Aw man, that long?" Bokuto says, distressed.

Akaashi just shrugs, mouth flattening.

"Akaashi..." When Akaashi fails to respond, Bokuto just gets louder. "Akaashi!"

"Yes, Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto grabs his arm. Akaashi starts, looking down at his hand, and then across. Bokuto is still frowning at him. His eyes are wide, piercing.

"You were the one who found us, then," Bokuto says. "Does that mean you saw us? Saw me? Like that?"

Akaashi's lips part. He could lie. But he doesn't want to—he's never lied outright to Bokuto, not like this. He doesn't think it would work right now, anyway. That means the best course of action is to simply tell the truth.

It's hard though. It takes him a few tries, mouth overly dry, before he can say, "Yes, Bokuto-san. I saw you."

Bokuto's grip on his arm tightens. "Then, did you think it was—shameful? Disgusting, or something like that?"

Akaashi looks back at Bokuto, eyes widening. His voice is too quiet this time when he says, "No, Bokuto-san. Not at all."

"Oh," Bokuto says, blinking. "Then... good."

Akaashi looks back at the ceiling. Bokuto is still touching his arm.

"You know Kuroo and I are totally casual, right?" Bokuto blurts into the silence. "We're not dating or anything. Just friends, you know? So like, we can stop anytime. Or do things with other people if we want to. Or even—I'm pretty sure he'd be cool with a threesome or something if it ever—"

" _Bokuto-san_ ," Akaashi interrupts, closing his eyes. He thinks he might feel the beginnings of a headache. " _What_ are you talking about."

"Well, you've been acting weird ever since you saw us," Bokuto says. "Like you were super grossed out and hiding it, or else really turned on. And since you're not grossed out, probably that means you were turned on?"

Akaashi looks at Bokuto, his throat clogged with alarm.

Bokuto is still staring at him, eyes very round. It feels like he's come a little closer, but maybe it's just the hush around them.

"You were turned on at least a little," Bokuto says. It's not so much of a question this time. "Maybe even a lot, huh?"

"...Is there a point to this line of questioning, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asks, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Well, you're blushing," Bokuto says.

Akaashi's face does feel hot, now that he thinks about it.

"And I mean," Bokuto continues, eyes still fixed on him, "it's kind of making me want to kiss you. Is that... okay?"

The ringing in his ears from that night is back again, very loud this time. It makes his skin tingle where Bokuto is touching, and jams up his thought process.

"I've never been kissed before," he hears himself say.

"That's okay," Bokuto says immediately. He scoots closer, looking excited. "The first time I was kissed was at training camp too."

Akaashi puts his hand over Bokuto's on his arm. "Let me be clear for a moment. I have no desire to end up in your current situation."

Bokuto stalls. "You mean, getting kissed for the first time at camp?"

"Repeated intimate encounters in semi-public spaces," Akaashi corrects. "Being the team's gossip fodder. Getting caught in the act. I don't want that, ever."

"What," Bokuto says, "but you were the only reason we even got caught in the first place!"

Akaashi ignores him, though his face burns. "The team is out for now, but they could come back at any time."

"So we should hurry!" Bokuto insists.

Akaashi glances at Bokuto's face—takes in his wild excitement—and feels a little stirring in himself. He weighs the pros and cons, though his head is still buzzing. It's probably a mistake when he says, "Fine. _One_ kiss."

" _Yes_ ," Bokuto breathes, rolling in closer. He puts his other hand on Akaashi's waist, leaning in.

Akaashi turns cautiously onto his side, facing Bokuto; he flushes just at the feeling of their knees bumping together. But Bokuto doesn't stop moving, not until their chests are pressed together too, warm and firm. Akaashi feels the shadow of heat at his groin and can't help but wet his lips with his tongue, quick. Bokuto is slow as he leans in, eyes wide and close. He seems—attentive. Observant, in a weird reversal.

Akaashi puts a tentative hand to Bokuto's shoulder, feeling the fabric of his shirt, the warm muscle beneath. "Did you want to kiss me or not, Bokuto-san?"

"Yeah," Bokuto says. "I do."

Still, he hesitates, the tension between them thick like butter. Akaashi waits, balancing on the edge of patience.

"I've just wanted to for a really long time, you know," Bokuto blurts.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, drawing his fingers along a seam in Bokuto's shirt. "Please stop dawdling."

There's one more breath of stillness before Bokuto _grins_ , sun-bright, and tilts in to kiss him—to really, really kiss him.

Akaashi makes some kind of noise, breathy, as he tries to keep up with the pressure of Bokuto's mouth against his own, and he feels the minute tremble of Bokuto's lips against his when they slow the pace. He breathes in, and groans when Bokuto bites at his open mouth. Bokuto presses against him, harder and harder, and Akaashi clutches at him, lets himself roll with it.

When he next opens his eyes he's on his back on his futon, Bokuto leaning over him. His gaze feels heavy, like a physical touch. Akaashi shivers, weighed down with it.

"Just one kiss, right Akaashi?" Bokuto asks. "That was it."

"That's right," Akaashi says.

"Your first kiss," Bokuto says.

"...That's right," Akaashi says again, glancing away.

Bokuto leans in again, their temples brushing, to whisper into his ear, "Would you... want to kiss me again sometime?"

Akaashi breathes carefully. "I would," he says.

"Mmm," says Bokuto, rubbing his cheek against Akaashi's.

Akaashi feels—crowded. Hot. He forces himself to release the deathgrip he has on Bokuto's shoulders, hands falling to his sides.

"What I said before still holds," he says.

"Ah..." Bokuto says, stilling. "Okay then."

He lies there, flat on his back, as Bokuto stiffly straightens and makes his way to his feet, face flushed. He seems very far away now—far enough for Akaashi to look him over in his entirety. He can't help but bite at the inside of his lip as he assesses it all: the pace of Bokuto's breathing, the tension in his jaw, the droop of his eyelids. The mostly-hidden line of his dick in his shorts.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto quickly shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, going redder.

Akaashi glances up to his face, allowing him the moment to surreptitiously adjust himself. He can't help but smile a bit, just at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm gonna—" Bokuto says, "—just, go for a bit. You know."

"Okay, Bokuto-san," he says.

Bokuto stands there for a heartbeat longer, staring right back at him. "You're so cool, Akaashi," he says.

Akaashi looks away; Bokuto pads out hastily, leaving the door open behind him. He's probably off to lock himself in the shared bathroom, Akaashi thinks, suddenly tired.

He lies there for three full minutes, staring at the plastered ceiling and feeling his heart rate slowly return to normal. He holds his hands still and open at his sides as his cock settles back into softness.

After those three minutes have passed, the team returns from their ice cream venture.

"You sleeping already or something?" Washio asks, rummaging through his bag.

"Just thinking," Akaashi says, and slowly sits up. Blood rushes through his head.

"Thinking versus ice cream," Konoha teases, eying him. "Someone seriously missed out."

Akaashi shrugs, and waits to stand until the faint dizziness has passed.

&&&

Bokuto is jittery and moody the next day, hovering around Akaashi like he does when Akaashi has said he won't set to him, and yet beaming extra brightly whenever Akaashi looks his way. Akaashi avoids looking as much as possible, for precisely this reason. He knows that all of this—the jitters, the extra gleam in Bokuto's sidelong stares, the extra tension in his spiking hand—is just a loud cry of _when can we kiss again??_

"You've certainly been grumpy today," Konoha comments during Ubugawa's time-out. "You haven't even told Bokuto to stop bothering you."

Akaashi makes a face. "He's been playing well, so I don't want to interrupt the flow," he says.

"Hey, hey, Akaashi!" Bokuto says, throwing an arm around his shoulders from behind. "Talking about me, huh?"

"That last spike was well-placed, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says. He barely has to think about it at this point.

"It was, wasn't it?" Bokuto says, pleased. His sweaty arm slides against the sweaty nape of Akaashi's neck. "Woohoo!" he shouts, too loud, and leaves as suddenly as he'd come.

Akaashi rubs his neck, uncomfortable. Konoha has turned most of his attention to the other side of the net, which is fortunate.

The feeling of something _different_ in their interactions winds through all of regular practice, through extra practice, and even through dinner, where they sit across from each other. Bokuto touches their toes together, glancing at Akaashi too-often, while Akaashi looks down at his food and eats at a steady pace.

He finally gets some of the privacy he'd been seeking late that night, in one of the shower rooms that he decides—fuck his general sensibilities—to lock. He rinses himself off, and jerks one out in the shower just like he does at home, though somewhat more frantically than usual. Afterward he rinses off again, slow and thorough, feeling his head start to clear from the release of tension.

He doesn't know where to go from here, or exactly how to change things. Bokuto looks at him like it should be something easy, but he doesn't quite believe it can be. He understands, suddenly, why Bokuto and Kuroo's whatever-it-was had only ever started at training camp—in this weird place out of time, out of their normal routines and habits. He can't imagine any of this happening on a regular school day, after a regular practice.

Akaashi realizes then, that if he is going to change anything at all between them, it will have to be here, soon. He turns off the water and lets himself drip for a moment.

He doesn't particularly expect to find anyone waiting outside the shower room after he finishes dressing. Surely, if someone just wanted a late-night shower, they could have tried one of the other rooms. But someone is waiting there, when he unlocks the door and opens it. He blinks a little when he sees who it is.

"Akaashi," Kuroo says. "I thought it was you."

"Hello," he says, hesitant.

Kuroo gets to his feet and meets him in the doorway, smooth. "I want to talk," he says, and pushes Akaashi back inside. "Just a little."

"Ah," Akaashi says, and lets himself be shoved against the bathroom wall. Kuroo shuts the door again behind them, and locks it.

"Can I be frank?" Kuroo asks, looking at him.

Akaashi nods a little. His acquiescence is in his silence, his stillness even as Kuroo stands too close.

"You have to do something," Kuroo says. "He just wants to be near you, you know. Please don't leave him hanging."

"I plan to do something," Akaashi says. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm relatively new at this."

Kuroo's head tilts, and he grins suddenly. "Don't worry too much about not having experience. You build it up with practice, just like anything."

Akaashi's brow furrows a little.

"Where Bokuto's concerned, though, I'll just say it shouldn't be too different from anything else. You're coming in with an advantage; you know how he works."

Akaashi glances down, lips tightening. He can imagine it—Bokuto clinging to him. Akaashi imagines plying Bokuto with all the things he needs, everything that he doesn't say he wants. Denying Bokuto's demands to give him something bigger, more pleasurable. It's a fantasy, perhaps. There's no way something like that could happen, not in an immediate future.

"Maybe you're curious about the details," Kuroo says, stepping a little closer. "I could give some suggestions, if you want."

Akaashi smiles thinly, glancing up at him. "Suggestions for dealing with Bokuto-san?"

"Stuff he likes, yeah," Kuroo says, eyes gleaming. "He wouldn't mind me telling you, if you want to know."

There's a drip running out of Akaashi's damp hair, down the back of his neck. It makes him shudder a little, involuntarily, as he considers.

Kuroo leans against the wall right next to Akaashi, still staring at him. "Suggestions. Or demonstrations. Or hands-on guidance, whatever you want."

Akaashi watches him cautiously, eyelids hooded, but Kuroo isn't carrying any tension whatsoever. Akaashi has never quite been able to tell if he's bluffing, when he's like this.

He watches too long, or maybe the flavor of his gaze changes enough to give something away, because Kuroo eventually reaches over to thumb at his chin.

"May I?" he asks, ducking his head close.

Akaashi relaxes into it, nods slowly.

But Kuroo doesn't kiss his mouth; he goes for Akaashi's cheek, then the edge of his jaw, then behind his ear. Akaashi's breath comes faster as Kuroo moves to kiss, softly, down the line of his neck, until his lips reach the collar of Akaashi's shirt. Akaashi pants quietly, feeling Kuroo's breath hover at that border, before it slowly draws away.

"Alright," Akaashi says a moment later, meeting Kuroo's impenetrable gaze. "I'd appreciate your—suggestions, Kuroo-san. And perhaps additional guidance, at some later point."

"Mmm," Kuroo says. "Of course."

&&&

The next night is the last night of training camp, so Akaashi stays behind to clean up after their last practice. Bokuto stands outside, blabbering about nothing with the Karasuno first year he seems to have adopted. Kuroo has escorted his own first year out, berating him about the holes in his blocking technique.

Akaashi rolls up the net, and wheels the last volleyball cart into the equipment room. Camp ends at noon tomorrow, so they won't be in here again; someone else will be using this space. He maneuvers the cart into a corner, carefully, leaving plenty of room to walk through. Then he turns off the gym lights and locks the door behind himself. He puts the key in the pocket of his shorts.

"Bokuto-san," he says, "we're going to be late for dinner."

At dinner, he and Bokuto sit across from each other once again. He eats cleanly, one eye on Bokuto as he finishes his first plate, and then a second, in a burst of energy. Afterward he flops to the side, glancing unsubtly at Akaashi through one eye as he leans on his arm.

Akaashi lifts his cup and takes a long drink of water. Under the table, he touches Bokuto's bare ankle with his own.

Bokuto is smiling, awkward and red, when he lowers his cup.

When Akaashi finishes, he tells the table, "Excuse me." He glances at Bokuto as he stands, then goes to put away his dishes. He's waiting outside the cafeteria doors a minute later when Bokuto comes bursting out.

"Ah—Akaashi!" Bokuto says. "What were you doing in there? You're killing me, you know? I'm dying here!"

Akaashi reaches out and takes Bokuto's wrist. "Let's go for a walk," he says, and starts walking.

"Okay," Bokuto says belatedly. "Um—"

"Do you have your key?" Akaashi asks, as they leave the main school building.

"Yeah, I..."

"Good," Akaashi says. "I have mine too."

It's a very short walk; they simply go back the way they had come, to the gym Akaashi had just locked.

"Oh my god, is this really happening?" Bokuto says, an awed whisper.

Akaashi lets go of him to unlock the door, sliding it with both hands so it opens silently. He steps inside, and Bokuto follows in a hurry, close enough that Akaashi nearly trips. Bokuto gets the door behind them before Akaashi can. It closes with an unnecessary slam. Akaashi tries to glare at him disapprovingly, but it's lost in the darkness.

Bokuto is in his space instantly, shadowy and warm. "What do you want," he says, voice hushed but still resonating. "I'll do—anything. What do you want, Akaashi? Tell me!"

Akaashi doesn't answer. He finds Bokuto's hand in the dark and grasps it, leading him across the pitch black gym to the tidy equipment room, and through it to the little office. His hand sweats in Bokuto's. Perhaps he can blame it on the heat, but in truth it's from how hard his mind is working, from how hard he is trying to control his nerves. He lets go of Bokuto's hand, reaching out to find the little desk lamp and turn it on.

"Just to be clear," he says, "this is the only time I will do anything inappropriate with you on school grounds."

When he turns back around, Bokuto is looking outright _dazzled_ , like Akaashi has hung the stars, or agreed to toss for him all practice without stopping.

Before he can say anything else, Bokuto grabs his shoulders and pushes him into the door, knocking the back of Akaashi's head against that little window that he'd looked through, days ago. Bokuto bites at his own lip for a moment, staring at Akaashi's face, before saying, " _can I?_ " so urgently that—Akaashi just grabs at Bokuto's t-shirt and draws him in.

Bokuto's mouth tastes like rice and miso, but he kisses like he hasn't eaten anything in days. Like he's starving, and he has to have Akaashi. It's a pace that threatens to overwhelm Akaashi, but he does his best to keep up, letting go of thought and judgment. When Bokuto's hot tongue slips into his mouth, he opens wider for it. His lips are wet with spit, but that doesn't seem important; more important is the way Bokuto gasps against him, the press and bite and angle of each new kiss.

Akaashi coaxes Bokuto closer, letting himself be shoved harder into the door. He likes this hungry, desperate Bokuto. He likes the way he scrabbles at the hem of Akaashi's shirt, hands distracted and yet needy. He likes the way this Bokuto simultaneously calms and kisses harder once he reaches Akaashi's skin.

At last, Bokuto's mouth tears from his own. They both gasp a bit, drawing air from the gap between their mouths, and then Bokuto groans, forehead falling to Akaashi's shoulder. "Akaashi," he says, muffled. "Tell me what you want to do."

Akaashi drags a hand through Bokuto's hair, firm, until Bokuto makes a little noise and continues, "I—ah. I could, suck you off, or—I could touch you. I could—"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi says. Bokuto shudders to attention somehow, without moving. "What if all I wanted to do... was kiss you, like that?"

Bokuto grips Akaashi harder, arms tight around his ribs. "Then, I'll kiss you as much as you want, until you tell me to stop," he says. He kisses gently at Akaashi's neck—so gently that Akaashi trembles, breath catching. Bokuto kisses him there again, longer.

"And what—" Akaashi says, "—what if I want to be the one to suck _you_ off?"

"Oh god," Bokuto moans.

"Tell me."

"Um, I'd—I'd really like that," Bokuto says. "Akaashi, will you, please—"

He tightens his hand in Bokuto's hair for just an instant, then pushes him back three steps until he hits the desk. It's that same desk that Kuroo had bent him over a few days ago, topped with Akaashi's own now-crumpled papers. He imagines he can still see the imprint of Bokuto's elbows in the mess. Bokuto's face, when Akaashi looks at it now, is flushed red just like it was then. It makes Akaashi want to make him come, more than he already does.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss at Bokuto's halfway-open mouth.

"Akaashi," Bokuto whispers, lips bumping his.

"Yes, Bokuto-san?" He kisses at Bokuto's chin, his jaw, and then bends to kiss the center of his chest through the cotton of his shirt. He lifts the hem of it as he drops slowly to his knees.

"...Ah. Nothing."

He kisses Bokuto's navel. He tries licking a little along a line of muscle; it tastes like skin and sweat. He drags a hand, slow but sure, over the front of Bokuto's shorts, and presses in to frame the obvious ridge of his cock.

Bokuto grabs Akaashi's other, free hand, interlacing their fingers. Akaashi looks up at him, cautious, but finds Bokuto just breathing hard, his eyes wide and intense as he watches. Akaashi smiles faintly and looks back down to Bokuto's cock, assessing the approach.

"I haven't done this before, so please let me know if I'm not doing it correctly," is what he decides to say.

Bokuto nods and shakes his head at the same time, fervently.

Akaashi leans forward to quickly breathe in his smell here, and then leans back, dragging down Bokuto's shorts and underwear all in one go, one-handed.

"O-oh," Bokuto gasps.

He looks Bokuto's cock over, indulging in his own sense of anticipation. Carefully, he circles the base with forefinger and thumb, taking in the silky smooth texture of the skin. It's at once delicate and firm.

"Akaashi, please please."

He tastes the edge of it briefly with his tongue.

" _Pleeeeaase._ " Bokuto squeezes hard at Akaashi's hand.

He doesn't necessarily want to do it just because Bokuto is begging him, but they unfortunately don't have an infinite amount of time. This is an illicit rendezvous, after all.

Still, he's careful as he fits the tip of Bokuto's cock into his mouth. He takes in more of the length steadily, as he wets it and as he feels like he can. He cups the head with the flat of his tongue, catching a bit of salty flavor, and strokes the base a bit with his hand. He tries sucking.

Bokuto's soft _hah_ makes Akaashi want to spend an hour doing this, just this. He wants to try everything, and then try everything again at a different speed. He wants to catalogue Bokuto's reactions under different conditions. He wonders if it would be different if Bokuto were lying on his back, or if the light was off, or if they were somewhere else.

Bokuto's hand slips out of Akaashi's. It makes him glance up; Bokuto's still watching him, fascinated, but with his hand over his mouth now.

It makes Akaashi hot. He reaches up, waiting, until Bokuto pulls his hand away from his mouth and gives it back. Akaashi guides Bokuto's hand down to the back of his head, humming as Bokuto's fingers curl gently into his hair, and turns back to what he was doing.

Bokuto doesn't pull Akaashi's hair, or even really try to move him at all. He touches Akaashi's scalp, his neck and shoulders, fidgeting and curving over him as Akaashi bobs his head. He pants a little, noisily, but is otherwise surprisingly quiet. That's mostly just how Bokuto is during sex, according to Kuroo, though Akaashi doesn't want to believe him. He remembers those high whines that Bokuto made when Kuroo was—was licking him. He wonders if it's possible to pull out a little more.

Akaashi feels strange, almost possessed. The little bits of perspective Kuroo has bestowed upon him burn in his chest. He grips the back of Bokuto's thigh as he sucks at his dick, and drags his hand up a little, and farther, daringly high, until Bokuto's breath catches hard.

Akaashi pulls off completely this time, and his voice is a little hoarse now when he asks, "Can I touch you—here?"

"Oh my god," Bokuto says, pulling Akaashi's hair a little now, maybe accidentally. "Yeah—please, please, yeah, _yes_."

Though he's the one who asked, and he's supposed to have a plan, Akaashi isn't quite sure how to—how would be best. He pulls away a little, brain stuttering, until Bokuto cuts in and says, "Just use spit, just spit is fine for now!"

He's staring down at Akaashi. Feeling shameless, Akaashi puts two fingers in his mouth, against his tongue, where he can still feel the weight of Bokuto's cock. He wets them slowly, letting Bokuto watch him. By the time he pulls his fingers out, Bokuto looks drugged, absolutely riveted, and he grabs at the collar of Akaashi's shirt to drag him closer. Akaashi clenches his jaw, something heating in his stomach as he lets himself be pulled.

Bokuto hisses when Akaashi presses the blunt pad of his finger to Bokuto's crack, to the hole there. It feels—small. It spasms under the scant pressure he applies.

"This is okay?" Akaashi asks.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Bokuto says. "Please, please Akaashi. I want it."

Akaashi stares up at Bokuto's face, memorizing the dark flush on his cheeks, his expressive brows. He's content to stay just like this, just barely pressing in, riding Bokuto's impatient squirms, but time presses on his mind again. He lets his finger sink in the tiniest bit, just the tip of it breaching that place, and is rewarded by Bokuto's shuddering, " _Oh_."

He has to watch, eyes drinking up the way Bokuto's teeth worry at his lip, even as he considers that his finger must be too dry to be comfortable. If it is, Bokuto doesn't let on, or seem to care at all; he just arches as Akaashi presses in deeper, easing in little by little, in the slowest increments. There's a familiar ringing in Akaashi's ears, maybe from the utter hush around them, broken only by Bokuto's staggered breaths.

"Akaashi, please," Bokuto finally says, tightening the hand still in Akaashi's hair. "You're—I didn't know someone could be so mean."

"Mean?" Akaashi says, curling his finger slowly inside Bokuto. "How so?"

"You're—ah—"

Akaashi puts his mouth to Bokuto's hip, ignoring his cock, and starts to move his finger, pulling slowly out and thrusting, firm. He doesn't really know what he's doing, if there's some kind of technique to it, or best angle, but from the way Bokuto immediately whines he knows he must be doing something right, so he doesn't stop.

The heat inside is unexpected, though perhaps it shouldn't be. It makes his mouth dry, makes him finger Bokuto a little harder, drinking up Bokuto's reaction to every jarring thrust.

It's when he licks his lips and takes Bokuto's cock into his mouth again—fully, as deep as he can get it—that he finally garners a full-fledged moan, soft though it is. Bokuto touches Akaashi's face, whining, and Akaashi gives him three long sucks. He gasps hard after each one but goes right back to it, tongue wet.

Bokuto scrapes his hands through Akaashi's hair. His groan this time is louder, rough, and as Akaashi refuses to slow he starts mumbling, "Akaashi, Akaashi—"

Akaashi eases his way down another half-inch, the back of his mouth already full of cock. He presses his free palm to the tremble at the back of Bokuto's thighs, and tilts his wrist on the next thrust inside.

"Akaashi, oh. I— _ah_. I'm—"

If Akaashi were to think about it rationally, he probably wouldn't want to swallow. But this isn't a rational moment—it's a moment of power. He doesn't want to stop for anything. He wants to put the rest of his fingers in Bokuto. He wants to put his dick in Bokuto. He wants to fuck Bokuto until he moans like he's going to die.

Bokuto coming, a few moments later, isn't a surprise. He drags too hard at Akaashi's hair, pulling one hand up to muffle his moan, and arches hard into Akaashi's mouth, against Akaashi's hand. His ass goes tight around Akaashi's finger, spasming.

Akaashi tries gamely to swallow, but coughs before Bokuto finishes. His mouth tingles with what he manages to catch; he feels the rest spatter, hot, across his face, for what feels like an age.

"Ohhh," Bokuto eventually says, the tension finally melting from him.

Akaashi breathes hard, still gripping the back of Bokuto's thigh. Slowly, he draws out his finger, watching Bokuto's chest heave.

"Jesus _christ_ , Akaashi." Bokuto puts a hand to the edge of his jaw and sinks down. He kisses first at Akaashi's salty-bitter mouth, and then more lewdly at the patches of come on his face, sucking them away one by one.

This is the hottest thing Akaashi has ever experienced, or even imagined, and it leaves him speechless: Bokuto licking his lips after kissing the come from Akaashi's mouth. His face and neck are still ruddy from the flush of orgasm, his eyes blown dark.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi whispers.

Bokuto is staring at him intently. "I wanna do everything for you," he says. "I wanna—I wanna make you—"

Akaashi can't think. Bokuto's hand comes up to touch his throat, where he feels ragged, and he kisses Akaashi again, hard. He won't _stop_ kissing Akaashi. He pries Akaashi's mouth open with his tongue, tasting bitter and gross, but Akaashi doesn't care enough about it to want to stop. He grips at Bokuto's broad back, nails digging in.

They scrabble tightly at each other, balancing tenuously on their knees on the—probably horribly dirty—floor. It feels like the kind of game Akaashi doesn't usually play. Bokuto shoves harder at his chest, or maybe just shoves at the right place, and wins; Akaashi falls hard onto his ass, and Bokuto pushes him more, harder, until he's on his back.

"I want to do this," Bokuto says, straddling Akaashi's thighs and pulling at the waist of his shorts. "Let me, okay?"

Akaashi just grunts in response, because Bokuto bends down and starts sucking him before he can put together anything coherent. The inside of Bokuto's mouth is hot, and Akaashi chokes a bit in surprise at just how _good_ it feels, how intense. His heels scrape against the floor, his fingers grasping out at nothing. He aches.

Bokuto has clearly done this before, because he sinks all the way down Akaashi's cock without stopping, until his nose touches Akaashi's pubic hair. He rests there for a moment, only his tongue working, and then pulls a little way up. Akaashi shudders with the feeling of Bokuto's hum, the vibration in his throat.

He closes his eyes and breathes, pliant when Bokuto reaches up to pin his hands beside his hips. They squeeze at each other's fingers, too tight.

Somehow, trapped just like that, it's not difficult at all to just... let go. He comes easily, dizzily, as Bokuto sucks him.

He loses the next few moments, eyelids drooping as Bokuto settles next to him.

"Akaashi," Bokuto says eventually. "Akaashi!"

He rolls over, feeling a little bit numb inside as he says, "Bokuto-san."

Bokuto presses in close, scattering kisses across Akaashi's face, up his temples, into his hair. Akaashi closes his eyes to it, fisting a hand in Bokuto's shirt.

"Akaashi?" Bokuto says, a little later.

"Yes, Bokuto-san?"

"We'll do that again sometime, right? Definitely?"

"Not on school grounds," Akaashi says. "I said this was one-time only."

"But somewhere else would be fine, right? We just have to be somewhere else, and we can do it again?"

Akaashi swallows, trying not to smile. "That's right, Bokuto-san."

"You promise?"

Akaashi opens his eyes, takes Bokuto's hand. He holds it quietly in his own.

"I promise," he says.

Bokuto stares at him in that dazzled way again.

"We should be getting back soon," Akaashi says, looking away.

&&&

A few hundred meters away, and a floor up, Komi ducks his head into to the Fukuroudani boys' sleeping room to announce, "Everyone. Bokuto's missing!"

"Again?" Washio asks, rolling over on his futon.

"Where's Kuroo?" Sarukui asks, smiling slowly.

"Uh, I just saw him," Onaga says, pushing away his book. "He's with Nekoma, or he was a few minutes ago."

There is a collective groan, the room resonating with disappointment.

"Hey, though, Bokuto's still missing," Komi says. "And where's Akaashi?"

"Akaashi?"

Heads turn, confirming that their second-year captain is indeed in absentia.

"I haven't seen Akaashi since dinner," Komi says. "Hey... you don't think..."

He and Sarukui glance at each other. Onaga looks on in terror.

"Nah, guys," Konoha says, looking up from his phone. "Akaashi's calling his parents tonight."

"Aw," Komi says. "For this long? I've gotta rib him about that, we're going home tomorrow."

That seems to be all it takes for the room to settle back into their individual distractions.

 _You'd better have your excuses ready for the gang,_ Konoha texts Akaashi, in the comfortable silence that follows. _And you owe me big, lol._

**Author's Note:**

> ...so how obvious is it that i want to write a threesome


End file.
